


It was over and then it wasn't

by zurode96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Healing, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective George Weasley, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Suicidal Thoughts, i will add things as i go but this is the jist of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:03:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zurode96/pseuds/zurode96
Summary: Still focused on George, he saw the redhead's eyes drift to something on Harry's back; relief, guilt and pain showing on his face in such quick intervals that Harry doubted he'd ever seen it. For a second, he thought Fred had actually come back as a ghost to haunt them, but then he heard it. The scream. It was the most heartbreaking sound he'd ever heard. It was as if the voice was made of nothing but pain and he kind of expected to find the screaming person dead behind him. As if the last of their soul, of their will to live, had left their bodies through that yell alone. Broken. They sounded truly and irrevocably broken. His eyes settled on a figure on the floor and as he recognised who it was, fire ran through his body, bringing feeling back. The emptiness was gone and what an overwhelming sensation that was. He was angry, tired and sad, but above all, curious, for right there, at his feet, knelt a shattered Draco Malfoy.





	1. The world has gone barmy

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own the characters nor the world. Story is mine though ;)

It was over. Harry could barely believe it. It had been years, and one hardship after the other, and now, it was finally, truly over. Why was it then that he felt nothing? He should be happy, ecstatic even. Instead, he was just... empty. The adrenalin of the battle had long washed out of him and now there was just this hollow feeling left. As if that final spell had taken the last of his strength away. A sob broke him out of his musings and he looked down to Mrs. Weasleys figure, still crouched next to the still form of her son. The sight almost stirred something in him, a deep pain that attempted to fill the hole in his chest. And that should be better, right? It was best to feel pain than to feel nothing. It still wasn't enough, though, the emptiness came back. Harry wondered if this was what his future would be like. He wished it wasn't. Even death sounded better than this lack of everything, this non-life. Guilt raked through him like a tidal wave as his eyes settled on the many, too many, bodies in the Great Hall. How could he even have such thoughts when so many had lost around him?

_ Because it should be you. _

No.

_ You came back and they didn't. You should be dead. _

SHUT UP.

But it was true, wasn't it? He had had another chance, the opportunity to come back and others didn't. He looked at George who was sitting at his brothers' feet and Harry couldn't help but wonder if he had a similar hollowness inside him now, a space that had been previously filled by his twin. He looked lost, his eyes darting around the Great Hall, falling on the bodies on the floor and then scanning each person within the room. Was he still looking for threats? Perhaps he was expecting Fred's ghost to come through the open doors and start spouting jokes to lighten the mood? Harry was unsure if that would be better or worse. Didn't the dead deserve to rest?

Still focused on George, he saw the redhead's eyes focus on something on Harry's back; relief, guilt and pain showing on his face in such quick intervals that Harry doubted he'd ever seen it. For a second, he thought Fred had actually come back as a ghost to haunt them, but then he heard it. The scream. It was the most heartbreaking sound he'd ever heard. It was as if the voice was made of nothing but pain and he kind of expected to find the screaming person dead behind him. As if the last of their soul, of their will to live, had left their bodies through that yell alone. Broken. They sounded truly and irrevocably broken. His eyes settled on a figure on the floor and as he recognised who it was, fire ran through his body, bringing feeling back. The emptiness was gone and what an overwhelming sensation that was. He was angry, tired and sad, but above all, curious, for right there, at his feet, knelt a shattered Draco Malfoy.

"What is _ he _ doing here?" Ron's voice broke through the silence that Malfoy’s scream had left behind. He sounded angry and tired. However, before anyone could answer, George was on his feet and running towards the kneeling figure. For a moment, Harry thought he was going to punch Malfoy, kick him down to his heart’s content, but then, to his and everyone else's surprise, he did the unthinkable. George Weasley knelt down, took Draco Malfoy in his arms and _ hugged him. _What was even more astounding was that Malfoy did not push him away, or sneer like he usually did, but instead, he clung to him as if the redhead was the last thing keeping him alive. 

He felt movement at his side, and in a moment, Ron and Hermione were on his right, both still clinging to each other. 

"I am not the only one seeing this am I?" Ron asked.

"No." 

"I must be going barmy. Mione, have I gone barmy?" The question went unanswered.

George's arms were still around Malfoy's skeletal shape, and it was then that Harry truly _ saw _ Malfoy. He looked horrible. He was dreadfully skinny as if he hadn't eaten properly in months. He hadn't had the chance to truly look at him in the Room of Requirement and before that, he had only seen him at Malfoy Manor when he had refused to identify Harry, Malfoy had looked thin then, and scared, but not like this. It was a miracle he had even managed to walk into the Hall. His face was gaunt and ashen, his eyes were red and stuffy due to the tears still running down his cheeks. What made a shiver run through Harry, though, were his eyes, they looked dead. There was no anger, no fire, no prideful glint as he had seen so many times before. There was no life in them and, even surrounded by death and loss, Harry couldn't think of anything worse. Malfoy had always been a constant in his life, like the Halloween feasts, Professor Snape's snark or Dumbledore keeping secrets. It was something that simply was. And he had come to find comfort in what he could expect, so a life with Malfoy looking like he'd never had the strength to lift his head was something that made him really uncomfortable.

"Harry." His gaze shifted and met George's eyes, tears were streaming down his cheeks, too. Interestingly enough, George looked surer than he had before, still heartbroken, but less lost. He wondered if it was because of Malfoy. "Help me move him over there, will you?"

Maybe it was due to the shock of the situation, or maybe it was something else, but Harry obeyed and moved forward to help George move the still sobbing Malfoy. 

"Where do you want to move him?"

"Over there, next to Fred." Harry heard astonished gasps coming from the crowd that had been watching the scene. He didn't dare meet the other Weasley's eyes. "Please, Harry. I'll... I'll explain, just help me move him. Please." 

Without uttering a word, Harry moved to Malfoy's other side and with George's aid they lifted him up. As he grasped the blonde's waist, he felt the strong urge to feed something to the boy, lifting him was like lifting air. The fingers, that he hadn't seen before, were ghostly; the fair skin almost see-through and veins shining through it like blue neon due to the contrast with all the whiteness. 

_ What happened to you? _He wanted to ask, but, of course, he didn't.

As they reached Fred's body, he was surprised to see no one blocked their path. Perhaps they were still too deep in their pain to react properly, or perhaps it was their curiosity wanting to know where this was going, but aside from glares and whispers, there was no hostile reaction from the rest of the Weasley clan. Malfoy collapsed next to the lifeless shape and Harry winced at the thump that the frail knees made as they slammed into the ground. There was something about the sight that made Harry's heartache. It was like a truly devastating painting, a heart-wrenching photograph that tore at your insides but you couldn't help but keep staring at. It was painful to see, and it was beautiful nonetheless. 

A rough voice brought him back to the present and he realised that in between sobs, Malfoy was talking.

"...gone George, he is gone."

The redhead in question knelt once again next to him and engulfed him in a one-armed hug.

"I know little one, I know." _ Little one?! _ What the hell?!

"You don't understand George... I survived. I _ survived _!"

"Yes, you did."

"NO! You don't _ get it!" _ Malfoy's voice sounded angry, but it lacked the burn that Harry never realised it had had while they had fought in the past. "I didn't want to! I wanted to give up... _ so _ many times. You don't even know. What... What they did... to me. You don't know." The last words were barely a whisper. Tears were falling freely, he knew, and even though Harry couldn't see his face, he suspected something inside him would probably break if he did. "I wanted to end it but I didn't, George. I _ didn't _! I held on, for him! Because I promised. I promised I'd survive and I did. I did! And now I am here but he... he..." George's hug became bone-crushing and Harry winced at the sight, thinking it would probably leave bruises behind. Through his speech, Malfoy's words became strained, as if uttering them aloud caused him pain. The redhead was now whispering something in the blonde's ear and he simply stood there as both boys hugged each-other while they cried. 

"I... I don't mean to be rude or anything but... what is Malfoy doing here?" Hermione, ever the one to not stand an unsolved puzzle, finally asked what they had all been thinking. Malfoy clung tighter to George and buried his face in the other boy's chest, giving a simple nod to what Harry guessed had been a whispered question.

"Draco isn't who you all think he is." _ Draco? _Ron locked eyes with him and saw in his wide eyes that they were sharing the same sentiment. "I... I don't think now is the time to go into details, but... he's been giving us information on the inside for years."

"WHAT?!" Was the unanimous answer.

"Yeah. You never wondered how Potterwatch had so much intel? Draco has been feeding us information on what was going on at the Manor since this all started."

"But why?" Ron asked.

"Draco, Fred and I..." His voice broke at the mention of his brother's name. "We've been friends ever since your second year and..." He spared a look for the blonde as if considering whether he should speak the next words or not. He must have decided in favor because his next statement rocked Harry's world "Draco and Fred have been dating since the triwizard tournament."

There were no surprised gasps, no indignant exclamations. Just utter and complete silence. Wide eyes adorned every Weasley's face and Hermione's eyes had that special glint that shone in them whenever she was solving a mystery.

"He never wanted to be a Death Eater, he had no choice. He could have left afterward but he stayed instead to help us out." George continued. "I can't believe we let you do that Draco. _ What did they do to you?" _ George expression was fierce as he directed that last part to the blond boy still in his arms. Malfoy seemed to have folded onto himself and appeared smaller than he ever did, as if he were preparing himself for an attack, reducing the amount of flesh that could be made contact with. Harry wondered if he had looked like that at the Dursleys. _ What did they do to you? _His brain couldn't help but repeat George's words.

"It was my choice, George." Malfoy said in a frail voice. "Don't take that away from me. I have nothing else."

"Don't be stupid, little one. You've still got me." Something about that didn't sit right with Harry, but he chose to ignore it. 

"Does he still have it?"

"He never took it off so it should be right where you left it." Came the gentle response. 

Malfoy disentangled himself from George’s body and stretched his hand towards Fred, freezing mid-way to look at Mrs. Weasley, asking silently for permission. The Weasley matron, ever the loving and forgiving woman, nodded with a faint, pained smile and his hand resumed its quest. Harry saw as Malfoys fragile fingers grasped a silver chain around Fred’s neck and, in a caring and gentle manner that Harry had believed him incapable of, unclasped it and tug at it, revealing a shining locket. He quickly fastened it around his own neck and then proceeded to caress it lovingly while leaning back into George who once again secured his arms around him. Something about their posture, their comfort in each-others presence told Harry that they had been like this, in each other's arms, countless times before and he had a hard time imagining the proud, rude Malfoy he was accustomed to lying in bed with Fred and George Weasley hugging and talking like long-ago friends. 

A while later, George and Malfoy had moved to a side, probably to hide from prying eyes, and no one had made further questions. A unanimous agreement spread through all the Weasleys that this was a matter best solved at home. 

“Weird, isn’t it?” Ron asked, looking in his brother's direction. Harry could do nothing but nod in agreement. It truly was weird, to see Malfoy so at ease, so _ touchy _ with a Weasley when he had been nothing but cold and formal with his own parents. Now that he thought about that…

“Where are the Malfoys? The parents, I mean.” He asked Ron.

“Don’t know, mate. Saw them running away before the battle. Probably halfway across the country by now. I’m surprised he didn’t run with them.” He said, pointing with his chin in the blonde's direction.

“Are you really? I find it that I am not surprised at all.” A dreamy voice said behind them. Luna’s blond curls were dirty and hung lifelessly around her face, but there was still that _ something _ sunny and warm that her presence always carried. “If you think about it, it makes perfect sense that he is here, don’t you think?”

“Why is that?” Harry ventured to ask. With the years he’d learned that Luna’s insights were to be listened to and not ignored, even if she sometimes sounded crazy. 

“Where would you rather be? Where your pain lies or your heart thrives? I think it's pretty obvious.” With that, she skipped towards Malfoy and laid a gentle kiss on his head. 

Unbelieving grey eyes looked up to her face and he could see his lips mutter an “I’m sorry”. Luna being Luna simply took his face into her hands and once again kissed his temple. She then sat down, taking his hands in hers and proceeded to tell him a story. Harry couldn’t hear what she was talking about but he could guess it was probably about Nargles. Malfoys eyes widened in astonishment and incredulity. _ Definitely Nargles. _

“Harry,” George called to him a moment later. He had been so entranced by Luna and Malfoy’s behaviour that he hadn’t noticed the older boy standing up and walking towards him. “I need to ask you a favour.” He appeared uncomfortable, unsure.

“Let me guess, it has to do with blondie over there.”

George chuckled lowly. “Yeah… I… Listen. Auror’s will be coming for him any moment now and that can’t happen. I understand there has to be a trial but until then he can’t be shipped off to Azkaban. With everything that I know has happened to him and everything I don’t… He won’t survive it Harry. I know he won’t.” There was fear in George’s eyes. 

It was then that Harry realised that Malfoy was more essential to his friend than he initially thought. George had been devastated by Fred’s death but he had held on, for Malfoy, because he knew he’d be needed. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but it had to be better than being dead inside like Malfoy appeared to be. George was afraid Malfoy wouldn’t survive Azkaban, but that made Harry wonder whether George would survive Malfoy’s loss, as well as Fred’s. He didn’t want to know the answer to that. 

“What do you want me to do?” He said determinedly.

“When they come, tell them we’ll be responsible for him until his trial. I already talked to mum and dad and they said it’s okay. They won’t say no to the Hero of the Wizarding World, the Boy who Lived Twice. Golden boy extraordinaire.” George’s eyes shone with mirth at that. Harry’s heart constricted at hearing his friend joking. He realised a part of him had been scared shitless that George would give up joking forever.

“God. Do NOT call me that. Ever.” He grunted but couldn’t keep his lips from turning upwards.

“Can’t say no to wonder boy.” 

“I hate you.”

“Love you, too Harrykins” He said, gripping Harry’s arm fondly.

“I’ll talk to the Auror’s, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“I’ll want to hear the story you know,” Harry said when George began turning back towards Malfoy. “The _ full _story.”

“I figured you would. I’ll tell you what I know, what I lived, but… Some of it is his to tell.”

Harry understood that, and with a nod, he let his friend go. 

The Aurors came and, just as George predicted they went directly for Malfoy. Harry was surprised to see an army of Weasleys, a Potter, a Lovegood and a Granger blocking the Aurors way towards Malfoy. The world must really have gone crazy, he thought. They argued with Robards, who personally came for the “Death Eater Scum”. George had to be held back from punching him in the face for that remark. Harry ended up having to throw around his name to ensure that Malfoy would be secure enough under their watch and that there was no need to take him in. Kingsley, who had been elected functioning Minister had been called in to decide on the matter, and after talking with Harry and a suddenly, but not surprisingly, law-knowledgeable Hermione, it was decided that having Malfoy under house arrest at The Burrow under the supervision of ministry official Arthur Weasley was perfectly within the parameters allowed by the law and so the Aurors, a grumpy Robards, and an extremely amused Kingsley Shacklebolt left the Great Hall. 

Harry was surprised to see Draco Malfoy staring right at him as he turned back towards them and was even more so at the blondes muttered thank you. 

“Barmy… everyone’s gone barmy” he could hear Ron muttering somewhere to his side. 

It appeared as if Harry had been wrong, this was anything but over and he couldn’t help but feel excitement at the prospect of what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfic!! Comments and critiques are welcome! Let me know what you think!


	2. Don't call me... that

It had been days ever since they left the Great Hall behind. Draco’s head had been in a cloud ever since. He felt as if he were just going through the motions. He’d been sharing George’s room. Now, it was no longer Fred’s. A pang of pain shot through him at the thought. He was gone. The sole reason he’d fought through hell was gone. _Dead, _his traitorous brain supplied. Indeed, he was not gone, he was dead.

_As you should be._

He had no strength left to fight those dark thoughts. Not anymore. While he was still at the Manor he had ignored that little voice that told him to end it all, to give up, to succumb into the soft arms of nothingness. No pain, no suffering, no _them,_ it would be simply nothing. It had seemed so sweet at the time, it still was. Back then, he had shoved it away and beat that voice into submission. For him, for Fred. Because he promised. But now? What was the point of it now? There was no more Fred, no more secret smiles and hidden messages. No more laughs late at night and arms to embrace him while he slept, the warmth keeping those ever-present nightmares at bay. If it weren’t for George, he would have jumped out of the Astronomy tower after he saw the once sunny, laughing face of his love so dreadfully plain, unmoving, _dead._ It would have been almost poetic, wouldn’t it? The traitorous, evil Malfoy falling to is demise at the bottom of the same tower Dumbledore once fell through. A full circle, tying where his nightmares truly began and where they would end together. Two lifes gone, one good, one evil, one deserving, and one… not. But Draco hadn’t had the strength to do it then. He’d been a coward, again. He’d seen George and that had been his downfall. His friend needed him. He’d lost his brother, his other half. Draco may have lost his heart, but George had lost a part of his soul.

Sighing, he turned to his side, the shine of the moon coming through the window. It was beautiful outside. The stars were bright, the breeze was neither hot nor cold, and the trees’ leaves shook softly with it, dancing to the tune of the night. It made him angry. It was as if the world was mocking him. What right did it have to be beautiful when he wasn’t there to see it? When he would never be able to enjoy it? It made him want to smash things and cut those damn trees down. He stood up quietly, so as not to rise the sleeping George beside him and made his way to the bathroom. They had spelled Fred’s bed bigger, both wanting to feel closer to him, but it hadn’t been enough, it never would be. He was wearing a pair of long pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeved t-shirt, despite the warmth of the night. The less skin he was forced to see, the better. He’d always been tall, the twins only taller than him by a few centimetres, but the clothes now hung on him awkwardly. He’d lost so much weight he also seemed to have shrunken in height. The past months, he had avoided mirrors as much as he could, partly for shame, and partly because he felt as if seeing what they were doing to him would make it more real. Foolish thoughts those were, it had been plenty real, nonetheless.

The hallway was deserted, the doors to the other rooms shut closed. It was a strange thing to move about the house without a charm to keep him hidden, unseen, like he had so many times before. He had never seen anything of The Burrow but the twin’s room, the bathroom and the hall that led to it. He’d never gotten the chance. He wondered if he’d have it now. The days he’d been here, neither George nor he had had the strength to move further than this. And their treks to the bathroom had been made strategically to avoid the other inhabitants of the house. He was surprised that an army of Weasleys hadn't barged in yet into their room and demanded his head on a silver platter. That was just another proof of how much better these people were than his own family.

Despite the momentary peace, he knew they couldn’t keep this up forever, they’d have to face the music at some point, but not yet. He couldn’t just yet. The thought of opening up and telling his story, his truths, made him want to vomit. He could imagine what he’d see in their faces, especially in those of the Golden Trio. _You deserved it, all of it. _ They wouldn’t understand, he knew. He’d caused too much harm to ever be forgiven. But he hoped they’d help him get out of Azkaban, if not for him, then for George. He still needed him, after all. And when he ceased to do so, well then, he’d be free to _go_.

Draco entered the bathroom, still deep in his musings, and as he finished and exited into the dark hallway, he failed to see the figure lurking in the shadows. He’d been too distracted by his thoughts to see and then it was too late. A hand was around his wrist and only one word was uttered.

“Malfoy.”

A moment later he was back _there_, with _them. _His wrists bound and his body utterly defenceless, powerless, just as He had wished it. A lack of control was the perfect punishment for one who thrived in it, one who needed order to function properly and Draco had always needed it. Even his socks were colour coded, for fucks sake! It had been the perfect torture, the impotency, the chaos, the unpredictability, the filth and the pain, so much pain. They succeeded; they had finally managed to break him. The proud Malfoy was no longer.

A cold wetness on his face broke through the terrible fog that were his memories and brought him back to the present. He was on the hallway, heaving on the floor, his back pressed harshly against the wall as if his body had tried to protect at least that part of himself. Harsh breaths came out of him, unevenly and uncontrolled. There wasn’t enough air, there _wasn’t._ His eyes focused on the face before his and saw the familiar eyes of George, so similar and yet so different from Fred’s. Both were brown but only the latter had tiny amber specks in them, almost golden in colour. For a moment he wondered why death hadn’t taken George with it instead of Fred and immediately felt an overwhelming shame. Fred would be so disappointed in him. He heard a voice and strained his ears to listen.

“Breathe with me Draco, come on little one. Breathe in, breathe out, come on.”

He tried to follow the instructions and slowly, his swallows became even to match George’s. Looking around he realised the wet feeling had come from a soaked cloth in his friend’s hand and, to his surprise, found none other the Harry Potter, Golden Boy extraordinaire fidgeting nervously next to the bathroom door.

_Must he witness all of my worst moments? _He wondered grumpily. The saviour looked terrible, he realised. He had bags under his eyes and his skin was ashen, unlike its usual dark golden tone. His usually unruly hair seemed… defeated, in a way. It made him want to scream. Wasn’t Potter supposed to be happy? He’d won! _But at what price? _Supplied a tiny voice in his head.

“What happened?” He managed to ask when he felt like he wouldn’t pass out from the effort of speaking. Georges eyes drifted over to Potter, who seemed extremely uncomfortable and… worried? No, that couldn’t be right.

“I…” He began. “I went to the bathroom; I don’t sleep right and… I saw Malfoy going out and I wanted to talk to him, I grabbed him and then… he was just on the floor hyperventilating. I swear I didn’t do anything to him, George!”

The redhead, who had been switching between glaring at the brunette and looking at Draco worryingly, offered him a smile.

“Don’t worry your pretty little saviour head Potter. The freakshow would’ve happened eventually. I’ve been having panic attacks for months; this one has been long overdue. I’m surprised I’ve even had these few days of peace.” Draco said, going for a light-hearted tone but sounding tired instead.

Georges furrow deepened. Fuck, he’d have to explain himself later. He didn’t know if he was ready to tell him _that._

“Malfoy…” Potter said. The word came out of his lips in a soft manner he doubted he’d ever heard before. And even though the tone was much different than how _they_ used it; it was still the same word. The reason their torture was worse. The reason why they enjoyed it all the more. Because who wouldn’t want to bring down a Malfoy after all? They’d loved to remind him of who he was before breaking him again and again_. Little Malfoy finally learns his place. _The memories threatened to return. How simple, one word and he was once again rendered useless, powerless. It was his name and he’d been stripped from it, he doubted he’d be able to hear it again without falling into a panic. _They_ had done that. A hand gripped his bicep tightly and the pressure kept him from drifting, from plunging back into the memories.

“There you are, little one.” George’s voice was a whisper. He sounded sad, and in pain, which only added further to his guilt, his shame. He wasn’t supposed cause him more hurt.

“Don’t.” He managed, staring into Potter’s green eyes. Black eyebrows shot upwards, his face revealing his confusion. He’d always been an open book, way too easy to read. No wonder he’d been abysmal at occlumency if Snape was to be believed.

“Don’t call me… that.” He clarified.

“What? Malfoy?” Moron. His body tensed again at the word, but, this time, he’d been prepared. Potter was easy to predict; one would only have to tell him not to do something and he’d do it for sure. The certainty of it was comforting. 

“Yeah, that.” He confirmed. “Just, don’t.”

“Why? It’s your name isn’t it?”

“I don’t want it. It brings _them_ back.” He left it at that, not wanting to say more. Not wanting to reveal just how shattered he was, how dirty, how… destroyed. He prayed Potter would pick up on his unwillingness to speak at that moment.

“Why?” The Gryffindor’s stupidity shone through once again. Potter wasn’t one to catch on nuances.

“Now is not the moment to get into it, Harry” George said. Bless him.

Now _that _Potter had to understand, right?

“But it’s his name, and who are _them_?”

Or not.

Draco wondered how on earth this man had survived the war and saved them all. He’d seen confounded people less lost than him.

“Potter” He said, “I will explain everything, I swear. It will all come out in my trial anyway, will it not? I suspect I’ll even have to take veritaserum for it. But I’ll tell you before that, you and, especially the Weasleys, deserve to know. It’s just… I’m not ready, not yet. Can you respect that?” It must have been the longest he’d talked in months, his throat felt dry and raspy from its lack of use.

Potter fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt, it was hanging down to his mid thighs, no pyjama pants underneath. _Hasn’t he heard of decency?_ Draco wondered, although, he guessed that if one saved the world one had the right to strut around naked if they so wished.

“I… What should I call you then?” Potter bit his lip, he seemed uneasy. This had probably been the first civil conversation they’d shared so he wasn’t surprised. He was plenty weirded out himself, to tell the truth.

“Call me Draco if you wish, or your majesty for all I care. Just, not that. Please.” Potter’s lips twitched upwards.

“Alright.”

George who had been watching the exchange on edge, as if expecting to have to separate them at any moment, seemed to relax and stood up, taking Draco with him, hefting him up as if he were an injured damsel. To his displeasure, and utter embarrassment, Draco shrieked and clung to the redhead’s neck.

“You brute. I’ll have you know I am not a princess.” He said indignantly.

“Now _that _is a lie and we both know it, your majesty.”

That earned George a slap on the side of his head. Totally deserved it. He heard Potter chuckle behind him as they made their way back to their room and he shot a glare in his direction. The brunette smiled innocently and lifted his hands up in peace offering. Draco shot his nose up in the air in the most snobbish way he could and, to his delight, heard a real laugh come from both of the men, and for a moment, he felt like himself again.


	3. Going through the motions

Harry spent the next few days in a daze-like state, which wasn’t helped by his loneliness. Mr Weasley, Bill and Charlie were helping out at the Ministry with repairs and the hunt down of any remaining death eaters. Ron and Hermione were coming and going from Hogwarts to aid the teachers and other volunteers with the rehabilitation of the school. It had been Hermione’s idea, but Ron was quick to follow, though Harry suspected it had more to do with his incapability to leave his girlfriend’s side rather than solidarity. Ginny had been avoiding him as much as he was avoiding her, which he found reassuring as he had no wish to discuss the status of their relationship. Mrs Weasley switched from compulsively cooking for an entire army to not being able to stand from her chair by the fire randomly. George made an appearance from time to time to pick up some food but never stopped to talk. He never saw Malfoy at all. Part of him was grateful for the calm and quiet but it was also an eerie experience to see the usually loud household so… silent.

Whenever he sat alone on the couch in the living room, he kept looking up expectantly with every creek and crack the house made, hoping to see a flash of silver. The truth was, he was insanely curious about this new Malfoy, this... _Draco_. He had come to the realisation that he barely knew the man at all, he had believed him cool, unfeeling and cruel. That all came crashing down, however, the moment he’d heard him scream in the Great Hall. It had been one of the most heart wrenching sounds he’d ever heard, and he doubted he’d ever forget it. There had been so much pain, so much feeling in that sound alone that it had made him wonder who this person before him was. His next interactions with Draco had only confirmed that. The way he had clung to George and cried with him, the way he had panicked in the hallway… it said so much about who Draco wasn’t that he couldn’t help but wonder who he was.

He had always been unable to let go of a mystery, especially when it involved Draco Malfoy, if sixth year was anything to go by, and this was the biggest mystery of all. The twins and Draco were Friends, Fred and Draco had been boyfriends, which for some reason didn’t sit right with him, and most of all, Draco had been a spy for the light. Why? Why the secrecy? The pretending? When had it started and how? Were Fred and him happy? What had happened to the Slytherin aside from losing his lover that had left him so… broken? Thousands of versions had come and gone through his head but none of them seemed right. Worst of all, the sight of Draco shaking, trembling and barely able to breathe refused to leave him and he felt nothing but frustrated that he’d been unable to do anything except to call for Georges help. If it happened again, he wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. He thought of asking Hermione, but that would lead to questions and telling her about Draco’s panic attack felt like betrayal to him, somehow. He’d been thinking it through for a while, when Andromeda Tonks knocked on the door. She’d come around so he could meet little Teddy and talk. She’d attempted to greet Molly, but she’d been in one of her bad days and had retired to her room after offering a strained smile to woman and child. The others were on the reparation sites, and Ginny was, as usual, nowhere to be seen. Harry ceased to ask himself where she always disappeared to. So, it was just the three of them the rest of the afternoon.

Harry quickly decided that his godson was the most adorable baby he’d ever seen. He had rosy cheeks and big round eyes that changed just as much in colour as his hair did and were now set in a brilliant purple. He smiled and laughed, and it was such a nice change from all the hurt and sadness that seemed to be in the air these days that he felt as if he’d been born anew. Andromeda smiled at them warmly as they played, but there was always that tinge of sadness in them whenever she looked at her grandson. Harry understood that, she had lost everyone but him after all. It was after Teddy’s nap that their conversation took an interesting turn.

“How’s my nephew?” She asked, her eyes intently on his.

For a moment, he thought about lying, but the worry in her eyes told him that she needed to know. That she actually cared.

“Not well.”

Andromeda looked sad and her gaze drifted upwards, as if she could sense her nephew through the floorboards. Who knew what pureblood magic could actually do, so perhaps she could?

“He… he had a panic attack the other day. I haven’t seen him since. He said he has things to tell but asked for time.”

“That’s… understandable” She commented, sadly, as if she knew something Harry didn’t. Perhaps that was why he said what he said next.

“It was… frustrating.”

“What was?”

“It’s just… He was there, unable to breathe and I couldn’t do anything I was just so… useless.” Harry murmured. Andromeda looked at him seriously, and in a calculating way, as if seizing him up then she said, “Wait for me a second” and left through the floo.

Harry stared at the flames in confusion, Teddy still sprawled on his soft blanket before him. Not a minute later, Andromeda came back through the fireplace, a pile of books in her arms.

“You probably don’t know this,” she begun, “But Ted was a mind healer, a psychologist. He was a wonderful man and helped a lot of people. One of the things he aided patients with was anxiety and panic attacks. These books may help you understand why they happen and how to help, but don’t be mistaken, they won’t make you a mind healer. Draco may still need professional hep if he is willing to seek it, but at least, with these, you can help him feel less alone and more understood.”

Harry took the books from her when offered and held them to his chest with vehemence and thanked her profusely. When they left later that day, he hugged Andromeda goodbye and offered a sweet kiss on his godsons’ forehead.

The next few days, he saw even less of everyone as he barely left his room in order to read through his new books. He now understood a bit of what a panic attack was and why George had used a cold cloth on Draco’s face, the temperature contrast had shocked him out of his attack apparently. He read about other mind illnesses and was fascinated by it all. He made a decision to ask Andromeda for more books when he next saw her, but in the meantime, he memorised the different techniques that could help the blonde. Despite it making sense, he was annoyed when he read that whilst one technique may help one person, it didn’t ensure its infallibility, that everyone was to find their own method. He’d still try to guide the Slytherin through an attack were he to ever have another in Harry’s presence, he’d just have to try different ways until he found the right one.

It was a few days later, that he was sitting once again on his preferred spot on the couch reading, that he heard footsteps on the stairs. A sickly thin Draco Malfoy came through the threshold, a T-shirt he had once seen Fred wear was hanging loosely off one shoulder, his collarbones appeared to be drawn sharply, drawing more attention to his frail appearance. The pyjama pants were also too big, and he’d had to tie them up with a chord. Harry’s heart ached at the sight, and for once understood what Mrs Weasley had felt so many years ago when the twins had rescued him from the Dursleys, all skin and bones, and she’d needed to feed him. He wanted nothing more than to shove one plate of food after another into Draco until he looked healthy and beautiful once again.

“Potter” He greeted in a timid voice. His hair was longer than he’d remembered. He’d barely paid attention the other day, but now he could see that it reached his shoulders and could hide his eyes easily behind the loose strands that fell on his forehead.

“You can call me Harry, you know. If I am to call you Draco it seems only right”

“Very well…” He said. “Harry.” He added.

“I sent the owls little one, everyone should be here soon.” A voice came from behind Draco. George made an appearance a moment latter, looking roughed up and tired. He didn’t meet Harry’s eyes when he greeted him with a wave.

“What is this about?” He asked.

The Blonde and the Redhead crossed the room and sat on the sofa, curling into one another as if it were the most natural thing to do.

“We received an owl from the ministry, the trial is to be next week.” George’s eyes shifted to his face, as if to gauge his reaction. He didn’t seem to find anything amiss and stared downwards again, where Draco’s legs rested on his lap. The blonde was comfortably resting on George’s side, with his head on the older man’s chest, and the redhead’s arms held securely around him. Harry’s insides twisted at the sight. He couldn’t fathom why.

“I want you to know before then.” Draco said. Harry’s eyes met his and he was surprised by the fear he saw in the silver orbs.

“You don’t have to.” He said, even though they both knew he did. Draco smiled sadly, as if he appreciated the gesture.

“Yes, I do.” He answered, “Everything will come out at the trial and I’d rather you found out before then.”

Not much later, the floo roared to life and the three eldest Weasley’s came through. After a few minutes, Molly walked down the stairs and Ginny Ron and Hermione came through the door, having apparated from wherever they’d been. The whole clan made themselves comfortable around the room, shooting curious and distrustful glances towards Draco who had disentangled himself from George somewhat, now they were merely seating a hair away from each other and holding the others hand. Harry saw that everyone took note of that but despite some raised brows, no one said a word.

“Thank you for coming” Draco started in a weak voice. He cleared his throat and continued in a stronger tone. It was almost reminiscent of the old Draco, almost. “I called you here, because next week will be my trial and certain things will no doubt be revealed and… even though I wished some things were to stay mine and mine alone, I am aware that I will have no say in it. And you all deserve to know the truth. I know I have been horrible to some of you for years and I deserve your loath for it.” His eyes drifted to Hermione and Ron for a moment, then back to meet Harry’s gaze. “To the rest I ask you to not judge me too harshly until you hear my full story, and if you still hate me then, I’ll… understand.” The last word was said in such a meek voice that Harry wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms and hold him. George must have felt the same because he squeezed his hand and offered him a weak smile.

As if inflated with renewed strength, Draco sat taller and prepared himself to tell his story, Harry braced himself for what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!! I got a few questions about updates (alright, it was 2 but out of 8 people that commented, It feels like a lot, so no judging). I am planning on them being pretty often but it depends mainly on my work schedule. For now, I’ll try to upload either tomorrow or on Monday (won’t be available on the weekend). So yeah, thanks for enjoying this ride with me!   
See ya!


	4. How he should be

The first time Draco saw the twins it had been at his sorting ceremony. They had stood out, even in the swarm of red that was the Gryffindor table, not just because of their hair, but because they were by far the loudest, most cheerful of them all. He found them curious, they were just so… different. He had never been allowed to play with other children. Malfoy’s were too good to waste their time on inferiors, and everyone was inferior in his father’s eyes, so no one was enough to be Draco’s playmate. However, when there was the occasional soirée and Draco had been required to attend, the children he met were nothing like this pair of troublemakers. They had been snotty, and conceited. They pulled their noses up in the air as if they were smelling something awful. Draco hated it and yet he had he made sure his nose was higher and prouder than anyone else’s, because how else was a Malfoy heir supposed to be? A part of Draco had always hoped that if he did just as he was told, that he’d befriend some of the other kids, his father was always acting as if he were above everyone, which he had been in Draco’s eyes, and was always surrounded by lots of “friends”. So, Draco hoped that he’d someday be as well-loved as his father was, yet he remained lonely. These twins however, they weren’t snotty, and their noses weren’t stuck up, they were laughing in a clearly indecent manner and yet no one was giving them foul looks of embarrassment and commenting on how disgraceful it was to act in such a raucous manner. Instead, people were smiling at them, laughing even, and he could clearly see awed looks from some. No one had looked at his father like that, he could count with his fingers the amount of times he had seen someone smile in his father’s presence and even then, it had never been so real, so… free. Draco had squelched down his curiosity and proceeded to be what he was expected to be, a good little Malfoy heir.

His first year had been mainly uneventful, he kept his eyes on the twins from time to time, feeling deep admiration for their antics and trying not to burst out laughing at many of their jokes. He tormented Potter and his minions after he renounced his friendship and generally enjoyed being away from his father for a while. How freeing it was to not be hiding in corners constantly, fearing every shadow in a house that should be a home just in case Lucius walked out of one. However, as the end of the year approached, dread began to consume him. The mudblood had better grades than he did in most of his classes and as the days passed, he became more and more subdued, studying late into the night, barely even sleeping and flinching slightly at any touch or sudden movement. Little did he know that two redheads had taken in the sudden change and that his behavior had triggered the boys' curiosity.

The first day back home had been the worst so far, the reprieve that the school year had given him, the taste of freedom, had made coming back so much worse, so much more panful. He knew what was coming and so he went to his father’s office, knowing that he’d be getting a _reprimand_ for his unsatisfying grades. He knew what to expect though, through the years, his father had made sure that he knew his place, that he learned just how to behave in front of others, with others, and, especially, what was expected of him. Thankfully Draco had become a marvelous actor because despite his teachings, he had never felt as superior or hateful as he pretended to be, as he was expected to be. In truth, he felt smaller, lesser than most, especially his father, because why else would he hate him like he did if he was nothing but disappointed? If he truly were as “above them all” as he claimed, surely his father would offer him a smile, a hug? Instead, he got the end of his walking stick if he was lucky, the snake handle if he wasn’t.  
  
The first time Lucius had beaten Draco he’d been seven. He had dared to come back into the house with grass stained kneecaps because he had been playing around with the peacocks. They were the only ones to play with aside from the elves and father hated seeing him talking to them, he only ever dared doing so when he wasn’t around. That day he learned that Malfoy’s were not to run, not to play, not to laugh. The walking stick had fallen on him time and time again until he passed out from the pain.  
  
Lucius lessons were frequent that year. He learned a lot. Draco rarely talked anymore, he would only do so when directly asked and only smiled in the presence of Leaf, the sweet elf who had brought him up. She had been more of a mother to him than Narcissa was, though he couldn’t begrudge her the coldness she showed him, she had been just as terrified of Lucius after all.  
  
That year, every time Lucius beat him, Leaf would dutifully clean his wounds and mend his broken bones, she’d heal him and ensure no scars were left behind. The day Lucius had realized it had been the first time Draco experienced the cruciatus. He had been eight. As Draco lay unconscious on the floor, Lucius forbade the elves from healing him without his say so. That year was even worse.

When second year came around, Draco was more subdued than ever. Lucius’s lessons had been almost daily and so there had been no reprieve from the pain, the torture. He hadn’t been able to heal yet, and his entire body ached and hurt when his clothes rubbed against any of the many burn’s cuts and bruises. At least his father had allowed him to heal the broken bones, the rest he was supposed to keep to “remember his place”. Draco behaved as expected when in public, he mocked the trio and made the degrading comment here and there, but any other time he was quiet, broken. Half the year went by and he barely took notice of anything, he was aware of the petrified students, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He sort of hoped he’d be next. That Christmas break, he was instructed by his father to stay at school which was, to him, a gift from the heavens. He probably should be feeling guilty about his thoughts, he should love his family, right? At least he had one unlike Potter… and yet the only thing he felt was relief that he’d be able to stay away a little longer.

Unbeknownst to him, Fred and George had noticed his change at the beginning of the year and had taken to following him around. They took note of how his movements had become stiff, as if moving was painful, how he avoided reclining back in his seat, or how when his robes shifted his shirts seemed to always be stained red. They had their suspicions but wanted confirmation first, so they developed a plan. They convinced one of the prefects to give them the password to the prefect’s bathroom and made sure to discuss it within the blonde’s earshot. As expected, the younger boy’s ears peeked in interest and later that day, when everyone had already left, they saw on their newly acquired map that the Malfoy had taken the bait. They entered the room just as Draco had been undressing and what they saw turned their blood to ice. It had been so much worse than they thought. The younger boy had cuts and bruises all over his torso, cane and whiplashes on his back and thighs and burns on his arms. They tasted bile in their mouths and had to squelch down their need to vomit.

Draco’s face had whipped around at the sound of the door and froze at the sight of the twins by the entrance. He was standing there in naught by his pants and all of his secrets, his fears and his shame were engraved on his skin, bare for them to see. His eyes darted across the room, trying to find a way out, a way to hide, but it was too late, they had seen all there was to see. They were now before the real Draco Malfoy, the one that was worth nothing, that deserved nothing but scorn, hate and pain. He hunched in on himself, preparing for the blow that was sure to come, the laughs, the humiliation. This action did not go unnoticed by the observant redheads and their frown deepened further.

“Who did that to you?” Fred finally asked. He tried to keep his voice light but there was a dangerous undertone that both George and Draco noticed. The first eyebrows shot up at hearing it, surprised, the second only cowed further.

“No one.” Came the weak response. Gray eyes stayed focused on the ground. The boy was trembling in fear, and the twins’ fury only increased at the thought of anyone doing this to a child. Even if it was a Malfoy.

“Sure thing, little one. And my hair is blue, and my teeth are green.” Fred quipped sarcastically. The blonde’s eyes shot up and stared in confusion at the endearment, as if he was unsure of what to expect from it.

“I fell” He amended which only made the twins scoff loudly.

“Listen here, if you don’t tell us we will have to go to McGonagall and tell her our suspicions” George added, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. The blonde’s eyes were wide and full of panic and fear.

“NO!” Came the scream.

“Then you better tell us…”

“...Who has done this to you and how we can help.”

“I… I can’t.”

“You can. We are going to help.”

“Why would you want to?” The smaller boy whispered. The twins were astounded by the broken, fragile boy before them. He was so different from the mouthy Slytherin usually on display. He was more like the boy they’d observed when he thought no one was watching, only he seemed more in pieces than ever. They could see every crack and they wondered if it was possible to mend him at all. Sharing a look and a nod, they made their decision, they would definitely try to do so.

“It’s just because we are that wonderful. Besides, we can't allow Harry to have a monopoly on playing hero, we want to taste the glory as well.” Fred joked, in an attempt to lighten the blonde’s mood. George shook his cloak off and handed it to the boy with a smile. He was glad to see that the corner of his lips twitched at the joke. They stayed silent while Draco put on the cloak and they sat on the floor, allowing the steam of the baths to warm their chilled bones. After a while, Malfoy talked.

“It’s…” He cleared his throat. “My father, he… he does this. He just wants me to know my place, how to behave. I… I never get it right though, I’m too weak, too small, too pretty, too dumb to be first in class and… I…” His voice broke down, the last words barely a whisper, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Worry crossed the twins faces and they scooted closer to the crying boy. Remembering the flinching they’d sometimes seen, Fred spoke up.

“Draco… can we, can we hug you?” The utter surprise at the words broke their hearts, it was as if this child couldn’t fathom the possibility of someone wanting to touch him in a not hurtful way. At the nod, they both wrapped their arms around him, slowly, to give him time to retract. At first, Draco seemed tense and uncomfortable, but it soon changed and he snuggled into the embrace, allowing the older boys to hold him up while he felt like drowning. He sobbed and they held him and Draco had never felt so warm before.


	5. Lucius is a Stinkfart

Harry sat dumbfounded as he heard Draco’s story, he felt furious at Lucius, grateful at the twins, and extremely disappointed in himself for not noticing the signs that now seemed so clear. He remembered the hurt in Malfoy’s eyes as he rejected him in first year, as if that had been the last standing pillar to fall. The twitching and flinching he’d sometimes seen and had catalogued as Draco not wanting to be touched by someone lesser. How wrong he had been. He should have known better for goodness sake! He knew what it meant to be abused, to be hurt by the ones that were meant to love him, so how had he not noticed?! _You didn’t want to see it, _supplied a treacherous voice in his head.

The sound on sniffling brought him back to the present and he saw that he wasn’t the only one affected by what they’d just heard. Mrs Weasley was trying to keep her sobs quiet and Mr. Weasley switched between pity and anger, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should feel bad for the blonde or furious on his behalf. The older siblings had an understanding look on their faces and Ginny and Ron seemed to not quite believe the story yet. It was Hermione who broke the silence.

“What…” She cleared her throat, “What happened then?”

George, who hadn’t let go of Draco once, tightened his grip around him and spoke. The other looked at him gratefully, as if he had to regain his energy before speaking again. Not for the first time, Harry wondered at how strong the bond between the Malfoy heir and the twins had to be.

“The rest of the year, we managed to get his story out of him little by little, we healed him and stole potions from the Infirmary for him to take home. We snuck him into our dorm from time to time, as well. Especially when keeping the 'Malfoy Mask' was too much for him.” Harry noted how he scrunched up his nose in disgust at mentioning the infamous mask. Malfoy must have noticed as well because he chuckled softly.

“You mean to tell me, that MALFOY slept in Gryffindor?!” Ron shouted, spitting the name as if it were poison. It was clearly the wrong thing to say, because Draco’s eyes opened disproportionally, and his breathing began to quicken. His long pale fingers clutched at the blanket that George had thrown over him as if his life depended on it. Around him, everyone exploded in shouts at the sight, George was screaming at Ron, who was yelling back. Mrs Weasley cried for them to stop and in all the chaos, Draco’s breathing only got more uneven and unstable, his eyes filled with panic and his body kept twitching.

With a swish of his hand, he wove a silencing charm over the room and everyone’s voices were cut off instantly. He knelt in front of Draco and grabbed his hands. He flinched but didn’t take them off of his grasp, so he began tracing circles in the back of them, like one of the books he had read explained, to keep him grounded, focused on something other than the terrible memory he must have been plunged in.

“Draco, can you hear me?” He kept his voice calm and stable. “I want you to focus on my voice, on the feeling on your hands. I want you to breathe with me, in…and out… in… and out.” Draco’s face twitched, as if acknowledging his presence, but he didn’t stop hyperventilating. Harry was afraid he’d pass out. He took one of the hands and laid it on top of his own chest, so Draco could feel his breathing and attempt to match his own to it. Harry kept telling him that he was okay, that he was safe and instructed him to keep breathing. Telling him to focus on what he was feeling and hearing. Never once stopping the circles on his hand or the deep breaths he was taking. Little by little, Draco’s chest stopped heaving and finally achieved a normal breathing pattern. Silver eyes focused on his own and Harry was taken aback by the gratitude he saw in them. He flushed, but didn’t move away, waiting for the blonde’s confirmation that he was alright. When he nodded, Harry stepped back. It was then that he noticed the surprised looks around the room, everyone but George and Hermione, who were looking at him with a calculating expression on their faces, were staring at him as if he had a second head sprouting out of his hair.

He waved his hand and lifted the silencing charm but the quite remained.

“I read up on panic attacks, okay? I wanted to know what to do…”

Malfoy’s eyebrow shot up questioningly and his lips twitched in amusement, it was eerily reminiscent of the prat he’d known in school, but at the same time it was a lot softer, without the bite it had had other times. Harry blushed.

“Alright then, can someone explain what just happened”

“You were a prick Ron, that’s what” George spat. Harry was grateful that he avoided to mention Harry's wand-less and wordless magic, he wasn't up to thinking about that just yet either. His brother’s face went red with anger and before he could start the yelling again Harry interrupted.

“Don’t call him Malfoy.”

“What?” Came the surprised response.

“Don’t call him… Just call him Draco.”

“Why?!” To that, Harry had no answer.

“I…” Draco begun. “You’ll find out later, we still have a lot of story to cover, but Harry is right, not using my last name, helps…”

Ron spluttered at hearing their 'arch-nemesis' saying Harry’s first name. And really, arch-nemesis, how dramatic could Harry be to ever have called Draco that when a madman had been on the hunt for him? He couldn’t help the chuckle that came out of him and was gifted by another questioning eyebrow. How a brow could convey so many messages was a mystery to him. It must be some kind of superpower.

“It’s just that I used to think of you as my arch-nemesis and I just realized how dumb that was.”

To everyone’s surprise, Draco threw his head back and _laughed. _Harry doubted he’d ever seen him do so before, at least in such a free manner.

“Let me get this straight,” He said between laughs “You had a murderous, evil, wizard hunting you down, and you considered _me_ your arch-nemesis? I didn’t know you were that much of a drama queen, _Harry._”

“Well, those Potter stinks batches were positively evil.”

“Don’t forget my absolutely_ malevolent_ attempt at impersonating a dementor with a _bed sheet_.” George let out a bark of laughter at that, and everyone seemed so surprised at seeing him do so, that Harry realized that they had wondered if he’d ever laugh again after losing Fred. Perhaps without Malfoy here he wouldn’t. It appeared as if the blonde was keeping something alive that would have otherwise died with his twin.

Ron seemed to have caught up on that as well and was looking at Malfoy, appraisingly. After a moment’s thought, he said.

“Can I call you Ferret then? I’m pretty sure calling you Draco will give me some sort of rash.” There was a hint of a challenge there but, for once, there was no hate nor malice in it.

“Only if I can call you Weasel.”

The tension in the room lifted and George ceased trying to glare daggers into his brother’s skull. It was Hermione who steered them back to the topic at hand, her curiosity and need to know couldn’t be held back any longer.

“How did no one realize you were staying at Gryffindor?”

“We’d sneak him in at night, or when there was no one there, Lee knew of course but he is a good friend and kept quiet. We used the map to stay clear of everyone.” George said.

“When the end of the year came, we decided that we had to take Draco out of the house as soon as possible but we couldn’t. He was still a minor and there was no way that the Wizengamot would take custody away from Lucius, so we came up with a plan. Draco freed Leaf his first night back and then bound her to him and him alone, not the family. Because she was his personal elf before that _and_ because the they had so many house elves, his father barely noticed it. That summer, Leaf would apparate him to our room every night and with her help we would heal him.”

“You said Lucius forbade the elves from healing him, didn’t he notice?” Ginny asked.

“Well your brothers are quite brilliant actually; it took them a while but, in the end, they developed this.” He lifted his arm to show them a silver bracelet chain. “When I say, ‘Pink Dragon’, it registers the injuries I have and when I say, ‘Lucius is a Stinkfart’ it creates a glamour around me that replicates the injuries. I learned to act accordingly to the supposed injuries I had and he was none the wiser. He saw what he wanted to see. He never paid much attention to me anyways.” He let out a bittersweet laugh that made Harry's skin crawl.

“That is actually really smart” Hermione contemplated.

“What can I say Mione, you aren’t the only genius around, you know?” George said with a wink.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“So, wait.” Ron’s voice rose up. “You are telling me that Ferret here has spent every summer night at _our house_ during an entire summer?”

“And every summer after, actually… In exception of last year, of course.” The last part was said in barely a whisper, and the blond snuggled closer to the redhead, in a comforting manner. Harry felt a pang at the sight, it was so clear that they had a special connection between them, and he wished he had that too.

“Why didn’t you go to Mal… I mean, Ferret’s Manor?”

“The wards warn my father of everyone who comes in, it wouldn’t have been save.”

“Ferretface at my house… I can’t believe it.”

“Actually,” Draco said. “It’s quite nice to see the rest of the house, I had only ever seen the twin’s room and the bathroom.”

“Oh my god!” Everyone turned at Ginny’s shout.

“Now I get it!”

“Get what?”

“Why the bathroom smelt so flowery when Fred showered and why he took _ages _in there. I swear to god I was waiting once for an hour and a half! I thought he drowned in there!” Harry, like everyone else, couldn’t help himself from laughing.

“Actually, dear Freddy only needed about ten minutes, the rest was all blondy-locks over here.” George teased, which earned him an elbow to the side.

“I do _not_ smell flowery.” Mumbled Draco, glaring at Ginny.

“Oh yes you do, like roses, and lavender, and daffodils.” She singsonged, to which he humpfed and Ginny offered him a cheeky wink.

“Alright, how about I make us something to eat and we continue this story later.” Mrs. Weasley stood up rushed to the kitchen to everyone’s astonishment. Harry was grateful at this little bit of normalcy and went to help the matriarch while other hurried to set up the table.

He knew there was still much to know about Draco’s story, but for now, it could wait. 


	6. Blue pants and freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there. I am truly sorry for abandoning this as I did.   
Since we are now in quarantine due to the coronavirus, I believe I'll have pleeeenty of time to keep this updated. Don't take my word for it though, I am a bit of a disaster in keeping up my writing. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little snippet. Next chapter will have all the romance and all the drama. 
> 
> Have a wonderful read!

It had been in the summer before fourth year that Draco noticed for the first time. Two years had passed since his life was turned upside down by a pair of cheeky twins. Two years since life had taken pity on him and sent salvation in the form of Fred and George Weasley. The summers since had been worse than ever. Lucius has been furious at the going ons at Hogwarts in his second and third year. He’d had wanted the mudblood’s dead, and Sirius black silenced and buried three feet below the surface. Instead there was a basilisk carcass he couldn’t even get his hands on for profit, a once again victorious Harry Potter and an escaped Sirius Black that was nothing but a liability for his plans.

Naturally, it was all Draco’s fault. His punishments only got more creative and brutal with each day that passed. Leaf was a gift from the heavens that made his hours bearable at the manor even if they barely interacted, lest Lucius noticed he was conversing with an elf. But what kept him going were the twins. Each night Leaf would take him to them, and they would heal him enough for him to be able to cope. At least that was at first, because apparently these two redheads had the minds of geniuses because they developed a bracelet that would glamour his injuries! Weren’t they brilliant?! Draco thought so and his admiration for them grew by the day.

He lived for the moments they spent talking at night, in which we would remain silent while his friends relayed the pranks they’d played on their siblings, how they had driven Ronald up the wall and how they had _stolen a magic car and kidnapped Harry Potter!_

“Let me get this straight”

Both gingers grinned mischievously at him.

“You stole a car from your father”

“Yep”

“A car that flies”

“That it does”

“A car that you father has _illegally_ and is exactly what he arrests people for in his Ministry job.”

“Ye-es” They singsonged.

“And you flew that car to a muggle neighborhood where you could be seen by anyone”

“Well, in our defense it was late at night, so people were sleeping.”

“And you kidnapped Harry Potter of all people”

“There were bars on his window! And a cat flap on his door!”

Draco chuckled. The situation was absolutely ridiculous. These two boys were ridiculous.

“Am I going to have to call you golden boys now? Because you are giving Potter a run for his money in the savior department.”

“Are you hearing that George?”

“Sure enough Fred!”

“Our little one wants to call us _golden.”_

“How charming. He’s given us pet names!” Draco’s ears tinged red at that.

“But golden boy won’t do, we wouldn’t want to make Harry jealous.”

“Even though we know we are a treasure” Both offered him winks which only made his face redder.

“Idiots is what you are…” He mumbled.

That summer and the next went by similarly, with Draco escaping to the burrow and the twins teasing him mercilessly. In that time, they found that the blonde boy was worryingly touch starved and decided to amend that, as they became more comfortable with each other, they did so physically as well and spent most nights tangles with each other, hugging or leaning on one another. Draco savored every moment of it, for they gave him the energy to keep going forward, to keep on living.

A couple weeks before his fourth year, Draco had a reprieve from his father at home. He was gone more often than not and to Draco’s delight, he barely saw the man those last few weeks. Given that Percy was just as busy, the three figured that something must have been going on at the ministry. They still spent their nights together, only now there was no need to spend hours healing the poor blonde.

It was on one such night that Draco found his eyes drifting towards Fred as he changed into his pajama shirt. He saw the thousands of freckles that decorated the ginger’s torso and had the strange urge to count them. A small trail of hair drew a line from his navel downwards, getting lost in the light blue pants he was wearing. Pants that were extremely flattering as they clung to his butt…

Draco quickly looked away, embarrassed, and realization hit him. He had never looked at girls that way, he had never noticed them, but he did notice boys, he did notice Fred. It was his smile and the gleam in his eyes, the red hair and the freckles, the protectiveness and the gentleness, the strong arms that had held him together for years. For some reason it felt different than with George, and he liked it. If he was true to himself, his eyes had been straying in Fred’s direction all summer, this had just been the first time he noticed.

Sadness suddenly grasped him as he realized what this meant. He’d never have a chance at happiness, his father would never allow him to be with a man, even less if it was a Weasley. And Fred deserved better, anyway. Who’d want someone as broken as him? His demeanor must have become gloom because the twins were immediately on alert and sat down at each side of him.

“What’s on your mind little one?”

A weak smile adorned his lips and he simply shook his head in response, snuggling closer to his two friends and taking comfort from where he could take it. Soon enough they’d be back at school, which was relieving because he’d be far away from the manor but also foreboding because it meant more acting, more pretending. He’d have to insult the golden trio and spend time with the snobbish classmates his father had deemed appropriate enough for his company. It was exhausting to always keep up the act, which was why he cherished these quiet moments with the twins in which he could just _be. _ He wondered if he’d ever be free from the restrictions the Malfoy name seemed to carry. If he’d ever manage to break the chains.


	7. Dreams are stupid

Fourth year had been, for Draco, the best year he’d had at Hogwarts. The surprisingly Lucius-free summer was followed by an even more surprisingly normal school year. For once, he managed to enjoy his time at school and be a teen. The Slytherins were too preoccupied with the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students to pay him any mind. Pansy was drooling left and right with all the big and muscled students that now shared their classes and dining table and to be honest, Draco couldn’t blame her. His eyes had strayed once or twice as well. Not that he’d say so out loud. Ever. Not even to the twins. Particularly not to the twins. Especially not to Fred. His ears blushed red at the thought of the beautiful ginger and he shook his head to get rid of that line of thinking. He went back to his current task. Before him a dozen sheets of parchment laid around. He was still trying to perfect the message on the badges. He wanted them to read "SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY-THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!" and then change into "POTTER STINKS" in luminous green. As of now, the badges read "SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY-THE REAL STINK!” before changing into a swirl of green and purple that made him dizzy if he looked at it for too long. Which wasn't good.

He knew that his rivalry with Potter was childish, but it was expected of him. And if he had to aggravate Potter publicly, to appease his father, the least he could do is ensure he had fun with it and be creative in his teasing. He was sure Fred and George would be particularly impressed with his charms once they saw the end result. He knew they were thinking of opening a joke shop one day and were developing plenty of amazing products that would sell spectacularly, of that Draco was sure. He had even helped with the developing of some! A part of him hoped that if they saw how helpful he was, that they’d want to take him on as a partner one day. But Lucius would never allow it. A pang of sadness hit him at the thought. Lucius would never allow him to be seen publicly with a Weasley, much less to be a business partner of one. He’d never let him work on something as mediocre as joke-products, even if it made him happy.

Draco had given up on that concept years ago, anyway. Happiness was for the Potters of the world, for those who were good. And he was anything but. A tiny voice in his head reminded him that Potter didn’t have it as easy as most people thought, the stories the twins told him about the cat flap were proof enough of that. But as always, he quieted that voice, he’d drown in guilt otherwise. However, it had become more and more difficult to hush it down lately. Whenever he taunted Potter or used the M-Word to insult Granger (he couldn’t even think the word now for Merlin’s sake!), the voice in his head would become deafening and remind him how worthless he was, how cruel and spiteful. He was just like his father and deserved everything that he got from him. On good days, he managed to get to the twins before he felt like he was unable to move, and they’d take him in their arms and hug him between them. It served as a reminder of how unworthy he was of them but at the same time, he felt safe, secure in his friends embrace and he relished every moment. On bad days, he’d lay in his own bed for hours, barely even blinking, wondering what the point of it all was.

The days passed and so did the first task. Potter held his own, surprisingly, and so did Diggory. However, there was a niggling in the back of his head he didn’t like. Something was going on, something bad, and his father’s cheery letters talking about “the bright future they had ahead" and how “everything was going as he expected” only served to further his suspicions. He tried to think of something else however, he wanted to enjoy this year and for once, have fun. So, he let those thoughts go.

It was a couple days after the Yule Ball was announced that George approached him.

“So, little one. Thinking of who you’re going to the ball with?”

“Well, father told me that the Parkinsons are a wealthy and respectable family in his last letter, and that an arrangement between our families would be in our best interest. So I guess that means I must take Pansy.”

George snorted at that.

“That sucks. I don’t know how you can stand her. Her voice is worse than that Golden Egg of Harry’s, and believe me, when he opened it, it almost left me deaf.” He said with clear disgust which made Draco chuckle.

“I agree, but it’s not as if I have a choice.”

“And if you did?”

“Huh?”

“Who would you take if you had a choice?” Draco’s ears turned red and he looked down at his feet, his voice barely a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s not as if we could go together and he already has a date, so…”

Both froze and Draco’s eyes widened as he realized what he just said, panic rising up in him and he curled in on himself as if expecting the rejection and disgust that would surely follow from one of the only two friends he’d ever had. What he didn’t expect was the shit-eating grin on George’s face. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that rarely promised anything good. Draco wondered if this was the moment he should run and hide.

“_He,_ did you say? Wonderful! Wonderful news indeed!” He said as he stood up quickly. “It was a great talk little one, but I have to leave, things to do, things to say, you know? I’ll see you around and yadda, yadda.” And with that, the ginger left, the grin still on his face and Draco stared after him feeling more confused that ever. _What. The. Hell. _

Strangely enough, the conversation never came up again. They kept meeting up at night on the regular, working on joke products and talking for hours on some days while remaining quiet on others. George would sometimes look at him with that same terrifying grin but said nothing and sometimes Fred would stare at him thoughtfully, as if trying to gain some kind of insight. It was weird. What he loved though, was that sometimes when he held Fred’s stare for long enough, he’d look away with a slight blush, which only made the gingers eyes bigger and brighter and his freckles prettier and that made Draco want to swoon. In a manly way. Because he was a man. And manly. A manly man.

He ignored the way he would practically melt whenever Fred held him tight, as if he were precious. He ignored how his insides warmed up when he found his eyes on him or whenever his lips turned up in a smile whenever he said something funny. The pride on his face whenever he added something to one of their products. He ignored it because he knew nothing would come of it. He’d never be able to have a life with Fred, and he’d never have the Ginger’s heart. He wasn’t good enough for him, of that he was sure. Besides, he was dating Angelina now. That skunk.

That, however, didn’t keep him from dreaming about a red-headed knight in shining armor coming to rescue him from his father’s evil grasp. In his dreams, he wore fitted dark pants and silk shirts in light blue, silver, lavender or peach, with billowy sleeves that hung from his elbows and reached the floor and would float around him beautifully when he was lifted in the knights strong arms and they rode together into the sunset on a majestic dragon. He obviously ignored those dreams as well. Dreams had no meanings. Dreams were stupid. But against his wishes, they kept coming. And a part of him wondered if the twins were onto something when they called him dramatic, because some of those dreams seemed to put even fairytales to shame.

The day of the Yule Ball arrived, and he wore traditional wizarding robes. He had to admit that he looked handsome, but he wondered what it would be like to wear something colorful for once, and whether a less stifling fabric would feel less constricting. Like silk. He bet silk would feel nice on his skin. He let those thought go though, these robes were Lucius-approved and that, just as everything else in his life, was the only thing that mattered.

He met up with Pansy and he had to stop the laughter that was rising in him at the sight of her. She reminded him of the Pigmy Puffs they were working with in that pink dress. He bet the twins would think the same.

The Great Hall was adorned beautifully. There were fairy lights and glass sculptures, flowers and magnificent drapes hanging from the walls. Most of the students had really put an effort on their outfits as well. Even Potter looked decent and Granger looked surprisingly pretty.

His eyes drifted over the dance floor and he saw that the twins were being their usual rambunctious selves. They looked like they were having fun jumping and goofing around, and he itched to join them.

“What an embarrassment.” He looked at Pansy, who was also looking at the twins, although for different reasons. Her eyes held disapproval in them. He hummed in response, hoping she’d take it as agreement. Draco had long ago found ways to avoid speaking ill of his twins. It just didn’t feel right.

Hours passed and he was bored as hell. He wished to join the other students in their dancing but this type of music wasn’t "adequate" and so he remained still. After a while, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he drifted away from Pansy while she was chatting with a Durmstrang student and left the hall to walk through the gardens. He found a quiet spot away from prying eyes and sat down on the floor, casting a cushioning and heating charm beforehand. He looked up and stared at the sky. It was a truly beautiful sight.

“Pretty right?” He almost jumped out of his skin at the voice. He hadn’t heard any steps approaching him.

He turned and his eyes met Fred’s who was now sitting down next to him. Too close and at the same time not close enough. He looked handsome, with his wild hair and tailored robes. His lips were red from the punch and Draco wondered if they'd taste like it, too. His eyes drifted upwards to meet the other’s eyes again and remembered he had been asked a question..

“That it is.”

“Having fun tonight?”

“Not really” He sighed.

“Why is that?” Fred asked curiously.

“Dancing to this music isn’t proper”. That furious glint that sometimes appeared on the gingers eyes when he talked about Lucius made an appearance, but it was soon gone again.

“Is all dancing _inadequate_?” He said the last word mockingly which made Draco's lips lift upwards.

“Of course not. Waltzing is an appropriate form of dancing.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes.”

“Well then” He said, standing up and offering his hand to Draco. “would you do me the honor of being inappropriately appropriate with me?” He said with a smirk on his lips, although there was something else in his eyes. Nervousness? That couldn’t be it.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, taking his hand with a raised brow and letting himself be lifted up.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He said, setting one arm on the blonde’s black and raising their clasped arms, as if they were to dance. “I am being an adequately proper, preppy gentleman and am going to dance with you.” He said with an exaggerated upturn of his nose which mad him chuckle. And then... Then they were _dancing_. Fred wasn’t the best at it and Draco wasn’t accustomed to following another’s lead, but they soon found their pace and they were waltzing and laughing, and Draco had never felt happier. He felt as if he were in another world. A world where it was only Fred and him, with no pain, no scars, no Lucius. A world where it was just them two, smiling, dancing, _living. _

He realized they had been staring into each other’s eyes for a while when they stopped moving and the quiet reigned. Fred lifted his hand and cupped the Slytherins cheek and he stopped breathing. He couldn’t look away from those brown, brown eyes, the peace would crumble if he did.

“You told George that if you could choose to go with anyone to the ball that you’d want it to be _him_.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Please tell me I got it right and that I am that _him.” _His eyes stared pleadingly down at him and Draco didn’t even realize he had nodded until he heard a “Thank Merlin” and lips came down to touch his own. With a gasp he breathed again, and he saw Fred pull back slowly. Where was he going? He didn’t want him to pull back.

“Is this okay?” The ginger asked, unsure.

Instead of answering, Draco pulled him down and kissed him as if his life depended on it. Because it probably did. He had felt many things throughout the years, most of them bad. He’d felt pain, despair, disappointment, anger and fear, so much fear. And then he’d tried to keep himself from feeling at all, until a pair of twins came into his life and turned it upside down. Then he’d felt hope for the first time, and joy, but he had never felt as _alive_ as he did at that very moment. He felt as if wings were sprouting from his back, as if he could take flight if he just tried. He felt cared for and precious and it was all because of this wonderful man that was now kissing him.

And, for a moment, he felt as if it would all be okay.


	8. Inexcusably you

A strange silence reigned the room as Draco’s words washed over them. Harry was glad that it had been this part of the story that Draco had chosen to tell during lunch. He had the feeling that what came afterwards would turn their stomachs.

While they ate, the blond had told them about the Yule Ball and waltzing with Fred in the snow, he spoke about their kiss. Harry felt a pang in his chest at Draco’s dreamy expression and lovesick smile. It was truly a sight. His whole demeanor seemed to change while he talked about his good times with the twins, but especially when he talked about Fred. He just seemed so… sweet. Truth be told, if anyone had told him the previous year that he’d ever use that word to describe Malfoy, he’d have laughed in their face and suggest they visited an insane asylum. But so far, what he’d seen of the blond had been at complete odds with absolutely everything he had once associated with him.

He stared at the thin boy dumbfounded as a stray tear run down his pale cheek. It made his insides ache and hurt. Somehow that single tear had a bigger effect on him than a full-blown sob would have had. It was as if that drop held all the pains and sorrows of the world. It screamed a kind of loneliness, heartache and hurt that very few could even comprehend. All of that contained in those gray, gray eyes. Once again, Harry wondered what else this man had had to go through to be so… broken, and asked himself how he’d never seen them before, the cracks in the ivory shell.

George appeared to be in tune with Draco, because the moment that tear started to fall, he took the others hand and squeezed it, offering a reassuring smile and holding back tears of his own. It was easy to see now, the missing piece in both of them. As if a limb had been ripped from them both and they were now trying to cope without it while seeking comfort in the other for they knew the other felt just as lost as they did. Harry wondered if they’d ever manage to heal.

Looking around he saw he wasn’t the only one affected by the sight. Mrs Weasley was trying to hold back sobs and there was more than one pair of eyes suspiciously wet.

“There is one thing I don’t understand?” Ron said in between mouthfuls of food. “Why were you always a little shit at school? I mean, your father wasn’t there, right?”

Draco froze at the question but steeled himself to answer. “Some of the other Slytherins were the eyes and ears of my father. Their parents would’ve done anything to get in my father’s good graces, including making their kids keep an eye on the future heir. If I had been anything but nasty toward any of you, they would have told my father I was going soft or leaning towards the light side and that wouldn’t have ended up well for me.” A blush rose up his neck and towards his ears and Harry followed the redness with his eyes, without blinking. “I must admit though, part of it was also because I was a bit… jealous.”

“Jealous?!” Spluttered Ron. “Why?”

“Because you had it all.” Draco said, his voice barely a whisper. “You were inexcusably you. You could be brash and loud and make mistakes. You had a family that stood by you instead of belittling and torturing you for not having sat upright enough during dinner. You could be friends with whoever you wanted and stand with those friends when they needed you. Reach out to them when _you_ needed _them_. I couldn’t do any of that. I may have had expensive clothes and the best broom but in reality, I had nothing. If it weren’t for the twins, I wouldn’t have made it to third year. So, yes, I was jealous.”

“You think your father would have killed you if Fred and George hadn’t healed you?” Hermione, never one to miss a clue, asked.

“No…” The Slytherin answered with a sad smile. “I think I would have done it myself.”

Harry’s heart stopped and so did everyone else’s. No one seemed to breathe inside the room. George, who didn’t seem surprised by the revelation, took his friend in a tight one-armed hug and Draco melted into his side, seeking comfort. He wasn’t sure how he felt. There was a sadness there, constricting him, but there was also rage at Lucius for having driven his son to that point of despair. But then there was understanding, because he had been there hadn’t, he? If he hadn’t gotten to Hogwarts, if he had had to live his life at the Dursley’s, would he have made it? Would he have had the strength to live through it, or would he have given up?

Before the air could get too morose, Mrs. Weasley was up and ushering them back to the living room.

“Dearie, You don’t have to tell us more, you know that right?” He heard her say to Draco.

“But I do Mrs. Weasley, all of this will come up at the trial end you deserve to know. It’s a part of your son’s life that you are not familiar with. I can’t… I can’t bring him back to you, but I can give you this.” He squeezed her hand, voice breaking. “I’m just sorry that our story comes accompanied by the gory details of my own life. But I’m afraid there is no other way of telling it.”

Her eyes lit up in sympathy and in a moment’s notice she was leading him to the couch, wrapping him up in a blanket like a burrito and putting a cup of tea in his hands. Harry marveled at the Weasley’s capacity for forgiveness and understanding. They were truly marvelous people. Perhaps if there were more Weasley’s in the world, there wouldn’t have been a war to begin with. It seemed Draco’s thoughts were on par with his own if his face filled with awe and amazement was anything to go by.

“It’s barmy, isn’t it?” Ron said as he came to stand at his side. “You think you know someone and then shit like this comes up.”

And if that wasn’t the truth, Harry didn’t know what was. He thought he knew Malfoy. He was conceited, spoiled, rude and cruel. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. And now it turned out that he wasn’t any of those things. He just pretended to be to avoid his father’s punishments. It turned out that his _father hadn’t heard about that many things_ after all… And the though almost made him smile.

“After the Yule Ball, you started dating?” Harry’s eyes drifted towards Ginny who was looking intently at the Slytherin.

“Yeah.” He sighed dreamily “It was amazing. He was amazing. After the ball I was on the verge of a panic attack. I didn’t know what it all meant. I knew what I _wanted_ it to mean but… I simply couldn’t comprehend why on earth he’d want me like that. I couldn’t even have a public friendship with him, much less a romantic relationship. I couldn’t even give him a future, because I knew my father would simply sell me off to the highest bidder the first chance he got. So, I hid. For days. I figured that he’d figure how worthless it was to even try and if we didn’t talk about it, if we didn’t see each other then he wouldn’t have to reject me. I was terrified to lose the fantasy of being with Fred, but more than that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my only friends.”

“So? What did you do?”

“He? He didn’t do anything! Let me tell you, his name may be Dragon but scared little rabbit would be way more fitting.” George scoffed.

“Hey!” Came the indignant cry.

“Well, it’s true in this case, isn’t it?”

“Hmph” He conceded with an exaggerated upturn of his nose to everyone’s amusement.

“Well going back to the point if his majesty shall allow it” The redhead continued, squeezing his friend a little tighter. “While this little scaredy-cat hid. Fred bitched and moaned and whined for _days_. Lee and I were one hair away from throwing him off the tower. If there ever was a record for pining, Fred would’ve broken it for sure.” Harry’s heart warmed at everyone’s quiet laughter. There were pained undertones underneath it, but it was laughter nonetheless and after so much suffering, he was grateful for small mercies. “After a week of that rubbish I talked some sense, or rather screamed some sense into my poor brother and he went to woo his prince.” Winking at the pouting blond. And everyone turned to stare at him.

“He found me at night in the Astronomy tower. He brought me sunflowers.” He stated, as if it were the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him. A sweet smile adorned his lips and Harry found himself wanting to photograph that moment and freeze that simple show of innocence and goodness forever.

“Sunflowers?” Ginny inquired surprised, as if the choice of flowers for a Malfoy were a strange thing. And he guessed, it was. If he would’ve had to bet on what kind of flowers Malfoy would enjoy a year ago, he would have leant towards something much more… refined.

“They are my favorites” he admitted. “They are just so bright, so… happy.” The green-eyed boy’s insides warmed at the simple explanation but a part of him wondered if it could also be because sunflowers were so different from everything his family represented. Sunflowers stood out, in a simple and warm sort of way, instead of in a regal and unapproachable cold manner. He’d bet his firebolt that such a common plant would never be found on Malfoy grounds. Perhaps Draco liked them even more for that and Harry wished he could question him about it but decided to remain silent.

“After that we met every chance we got. Still the three of us but sometimes just the two of us as well. He was a light in the dark for me that year.”

“Don’t let him fool you with all the lovey dovey-ness” George intervened. “There were veeery awkward moments. I mean, we _shared a room_.” He faked whispered.

“George!” Draco’s ears had become the brightest shade of red which was strangely endearing.

“Your highness!”

“I know we agreed to tell them everything, but I didn’t mean _that.” _He chided the redhead.

“Whatever are you talking about my dear prince. I was talking of your snoring.”

“Sure you were… and I do not snore!”

“Very. Loud. Snoring.” The two continued to bicker and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. It was clear that these two were comfortable with each other and it was curious to see Draco’s dramatics in a new light. The Slytherins tendency to exaggerate was no secret at Hogwarts but it tended to be hurtful. Now, however, there was a playfulness to it that he could easily see fit well with the twin’s unusual antics. Their friendship became less and less strange the more he saw them interacting. George’s voice caught his attention as the boy knelt at the blonde’s feet in a supposedly humble way.

“Oh, please your Highness, forgive this simple peasant that has dared to offend you honor!”

“What is going on?” Ron stood there staring just as much as he was. Unsure of whether to laugh or call The Janus Thickey ward.

“I do not know if I can ever forgive such an insult. For you to insinuate that my extraordinary self does something as common as snore is an offense of the highest caliber.” Everyone swallowed their chuckles as Draco leaned backwards with a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes as if he were a Jane Austen Heroine.

“In my defense, my exceptionally exceptional highness, the snoring part was a jest, I was actually talking about how loud you are in b… hmph!” A hand covered his mouth before he could finish at which everyone failed to keep it in anymore and started laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. Despite sporting a very impressive red face, the blond didn’t seem to mind much as he saw everyone around him happy and even swiping tears from their eyes. It had been quite a while since any of them cried for reasons other than fright and pain and Harry welcomed that moment of peace with open arms.


End file.
